Burn
by The Dark Warden
Summary: Iris Potter is by no means normal, even for a Witch. With strength beyond comprehension and loyalty everlasting, She will set the world on fire...Literally. ((FemHarry, Slightly crazy Harry. Don't like, Don't read))
1. Chapter 1

**Hermione Granger**

One thing that Hermione had never expected to be doing was watching her best friend face down a Hungarian Horntail with the entire school watching as though it were a fun Sunday afternoon. And she had been through a lot over the last three years attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

When she had first boarded the Hogwarts Express, she had had her entire Hogwarts career planned out. She'd arrive, be placed in Gryffindor, become top of the year in everything, graduate with flying colors and be well on her way to a job in the Ministry, fixing everything that the Magical Community had botched over the last several centuries. That plan had gone right out the window when she met Iris Potter. The-Girl-Who-Lived.

She had met Iris on the train, the skinny girl reading a large book as she sat alone in her compartment. Her silky, messy, shoulder-length midnight black hair had been pulled back into a messy ponytail as her emerald eyes scanned the book in her hands, her eyes lighting up at certain parts and darkening at others. The girl's ivory skin seemed to almost shimmer in the sunlight, and Hermione couldn't help but sit down in the seat across from the girl. Almost instantly, Iris's eyes had snapped to her and become guarded, the girl raising the book up so that she could watch the brown-haired girl from just over the top of her book. An awkward silence had reigned for much of the trip before Hermione had worked up the courage to ask what Iris was reading. The girl had narrowed her eyes in suspicion before answering that she was reading a book about a young woman who was born as a Dragon-Shifter, a being capable of transforming into a great beast of legend at will, and her struggle to survive in a world that wanted her dead. From there, Hermione learned that Iris loved reading and writing, and loved music. Listening to it, writing it, dancing to it, singing along with it. She loved it all. The girl was very passionate about many things.

That had been the beginning of their friendship. It had started a bit strained, as Hermione still had a bad habit of correcting people and came across as an insufferable-know-it-all. Iris put up with it at first, telling the girl off when it got to be too much. As it turned out, Iris was a hands-on learner, and she did not enjoy being told what to do in a derogatory fashion. During their first potions class, Iris had told off Professor Snape on his teaching methods, going so far as to quote the Teacher/Student handbook she had acquired from Professor McGonagall. Snape had gone beet red and had begun teaching the class the right way. Though the black-haired girl took instruction a fair bit better than the red-headed Ron Weasley. The first time Ron and Hermione had been paired up in Charms class, she had corrected the pale boy on his wand movements and spell pronunciations. He hadn't taken it well, and his words after class and Iris's hum of agreement had struck her to the core.

She had hidden in the girls' bathroom, avoiding everyone down at the Halloween feast as she cried her heart out, thinking that she had ruined her first friendship at Hogwarts. That was when the troll had entered the bathroom. She had screamed in fear as the troll struck at her with its club. Only the club never got close. Iris had appeared seemingly out of nowhere and had _caught_ the club! With her bare hands, she had held the massive hunk of wood and stone back as she looked over her shoulder, emerald eyes filled with a softness Hermione had never seen in anyone her age before.

"_You okay?"_ she had asked Hermione, who was so shocked at the display of strength that she was struck dumb. Hermione had simply nodded dumbly as the dark-haired girl shot her a wide grin, her too large canines shining in the torch lights before her head had turned back to the troll. _"Nobody,"_ the girl had growled, the club crumbling in her hands as they clenched. _"HURTS MY FRIENDS!"_ she had finished with a roar of fury, pushing the troll back and leapt forth, the girl's fist colliding with the Troll's face with enough force to snap its neck.

That was the first time Hermione had seen that kind of ferocity and strength from any human being. It would not be the last time. Later in the year, when they thought Snape was going after the Philosopher's Stone, that ferocity had returned when Ron had taken the hit during McGonagall's chess game. The instant he had gone down, Iris had exploded into motion, feral roar exploding from her throat as her fist turned the White Queen to rubble, before the girl had turned her rage-filled glare to the White King, who had hurriedly removed his crown and tossed it to her feet. Iris had tapped it with her wand and turned it to gold, before placing it on Ron's head.

Without another word she had made for Snape's challenge. As she figured it out on her own, she had given Hermione an indescribable look and had said, "Take care of him. I'll be back soon." And through the flames she had walked. In that moment, Hermione had been sure she had lost her friend for sure.

When Dumbledore had arrived, he had used some kind of spell to whisk her and Ron to the Hospital Wing, where their injuries were treated. A short time later, Dumbledore had walked through the door with a very tired Iris at his side, her face bruised and a rather nasty gash over her left eye that was leaking blood. Despite that, the girl had given Hermione a wide grin before she had promptly passed out on the nearest bed, snoring loudly as Dumbledore gave a soft smile at the slumbering girl. The girl now had a rather…attractive scar over from just over her right brow, down to the top of her right cheek.

The beginning of their second year, Iris had sucker punched Gilderoy Lockhart right in the dangly bits when he had tried to take a picture with her. She hated the man from the first, claiming that the man smelled wrong and that something didn't make sense about his stupid books. When the idiot of a man had unleashed Cornish Pixies into the classroom and asked Iris, Hermione and Ron to put them back into the cages as he fled to his office, the pixies had come to a screeching halt as Iris pinned them with a glare, before they bolted back into their cages and locked them themselves.

The girl had nodded and collected her things, leaving before anyone could ask questions. During the Dueling Club, the Girl-Who-Lived had gone up against Draco Malfoy. The young pureblood had summoned a Horned Viper to distract the girl. Iris had crushed its head beneath her boot; since she refused to wear the skirt and flats the girls all wore, being the tom-boy she was; and proceeded to break Malfoy's arm before tossing his wand through the door. She had shot a feral grin toward Lockhart, who looked like he was about to piss himself before he passed out. There were some good moments as well. Iris had taken Wendy Marvel; a first-year girl from Hufflepuff with dark blue hair and a white cat named Carla; under her wing, treating the younger girl like a little sister in a way that made Hermione smile softly whenever she saw them together. Though the black-haired girl did have a bad habit of being over protective whenever Wendy was being bullied, going so far as to send several people to the Hospital Wing over the course of the year.

Hermione was told that when she had been Petrified, Iris had been so enraged, she had gone out to the Forbidden Forest to begin demolishing anything in her path. It had taken two Stunning spells to knock her out. When Iris had woken up, she had told Pomfrey, "When I find who did this, I'm going to kill them."

After Hermione had been cured, she had overheard Snape telling Dumbledore that when he had descended into the Chamber of Secrets to dispose of the Basilisk corpse, it had looked like some kind of animal had torn through it, not a twelve-year-old girl with a sword. Chunks of its scaly hide was missing, one of its own fangs had been shoved through its eye, and scorch marks had covered the beast and the stone floor. Ginny had told her that upon waking, Iris had been standing next to the serpent's corpse, a single massive fang shoved through her right shoulder, a wide, toothy grin on her exhausted face even as blood poured from the wound before Fawkes had healed her, leaving naught but a thick, circular scar where the fang had been embedded.

That was when Hermione started being afraid and suspicious of her friend. The girl was always disappearing, then showing up acting like nothing had happened. Most of the time she seemed to love having her friends, while other times she seemed to want nothing to do with them. And how strong she was at such a young age, both physically and magically… Her go-to stratagem seemed to be 'run in and beat the crap out of it' rather than stay back and actually come up with a real plan.

The final straw had been Third Year. Before the year had even begun, she had punched her Aunt Marge through the wall of the Dursley home before taking her trunk, her snow-white owl Atalanta, and her Nimbus Two Thousand and heading to Diagon Alley. When Hermione and Ron had arrived, she had avoided them as though they were carrying the plague. She bought tons of books about different magical creatures, looked through the lists of holdings the Potter family possessed and so on. Then she had turned around just before school started, apologized profusely for acting the way she did, saying she had needed to figure some things out, and things had gone back to normal.

Right up until the Dementors had arrived. Everyone else had felt like the joy had been sucked out of them, replaced by crushing sorrow. Iris had instead been enraged, lashing out at the first Dementor to poke its disgusting head in the door, her fist knocking it clean through the glass window as she heaved for breath, more of the creatures moving to put the girl down. If it hadn't been for Professor Lupin, Hermione didn't doubt the monsters would have killed her. Hermione had scrambled to her friend's side to help her back to her seat when she saw Iris's eyes. Rather than the beautiful, crystalline green Hermione was so enamored with, instead her eyes were metallic gold and slit pupiled, giving her a reptilian appearance before her eyes returned to normal. Hermione had told Professor McGonagall what she had seen when they talked about the Time Turner.

"_People shouldn't feel at home in a fight, they shouldn't seek out conflict the way Iris does. And the way she acts sometimes? It's almost inhuman. And the way she reacted to the Dementors, the way her eyes changed…could something be wrong with her? A side-effect from You-Know-Who's Killing Curse or from the Dementors?"_ she had said as the Head of Gryffindor held the shaking girl securely.

The older woman had looked rather unsettled and had promised to look into it. A week later, Iris had been called to the Hospital Wing for a quick check up under the guise of checking for any residual effects from the Dementor. The thirteen-year-old had seen right through the lie and had refused to speak to Hermione for nearly two months. During their first Care for Magical Creatures class, Iris had been the one to calm Buckbeak down after he had slashed Malfoy's arm, resting her forehead against his snout as she murmured soothing words to the magnificent animal.

When the Dementors had attacked the Quidditch game, Hermione could've sworn she saw a flash of fire in the air around Iris before the girl passed out from the thousands of Dementors surrounding her. Once she had woken up from her mini-coma, Iris had retreated into herself once more, diving into her books and lists of different things the Potters had done or owned at some point in time. Whenever somebody was foolish enough to bother her, it usually ended in said-person in the Hospital Wing and Iris in detention.

When Iris had gotten a Firebolt for Christmas, she hadn't even blinked when Professor McGonagall came to confiscate it so they could check for curses. When they overheard the Minister, Hagrid, Flitwick, McGonagall, and Madam Rosmerta talking about how Sirius Black was Iris's godfather, the room heated up considerably as the girl in question growled under the table. Once again, Iris had retreated into herself, progressively getting angrier and angrier as time went on. Even the Weasley Twins couldn't get her to lighten up, and they were always able to make her laugh, even if it were just a giggle.

Iris had confronted the Minister of Magic about Buckbeak during one of the man's visits, going so far as to suggest Veritaserum be used on her, so that they could get the truth, rather than the lies Malfoy had been spitting out. Malfoy had been given detention for the rest of the Year, along with being taken off the Quidditch team.

When they had been crawling through the tunnel under the Whomping Willow to rescue Ron from the massive black dog, Iris had said, _"When Black broke into the Tower…I was down in the Common room, asleep on the couch. If he were after me, why didn't he kill me right then and there? Why go up to the Boy's Room and open Ron's curtains. We're missing a big part of the puzzle…"_

When they had confronted Black, it hadn't mattered if she were missing a piece of the puzzle. The instant Black had revealed himself, Iris had leapt at him, fist colliding with his face as she began to pummel him. Without Lupin's timely arrival, Hermione was worried her friend would have killed Black. As Lupin and Black spun the tale of Pettigrew being alive and having been the one to betray Iris's parents, the girl had looked like she didn't believe them, right before she had blinked and not so silently cursed. Once Snape had come in with Iris's cloak, the girl had lost it.

"_TAKE YOUR FILTHY HANDS OFF THAT!"_ she had roared at Snape, the room heating up considerably as the dark-haired teen trembled with fury. Snape had tried to pull the Teacher card on her. _"Not on school grounds."_ Iris growled out, eyes narrowed in fury_. "That means you have no power here. Now put that down and shut up, or I'll break your jaw."_

He had opted for talking. Once Snape was out of commission and Pettigrew had been revealed, Iris had snapped a thick, black iron collar around his neck. _"Now you won't be running anywhere, little Rat."_

She had gone on to explain that when she heard that Black was after her, she had forged the collar to cut him off from his magic, which would've made kicking his ass so much easier. Now Pettigrew wouldn't be going anywhere without her taking it off. Hermione had paled at the thought of such magic and at the fact her best friend would use such a thing.

When they had left the Shrieking Shack and Lupin had transformed, having forgotten to take his potion, Iris had engaged the werewolf in combat, her fists knocking the werewolf left and right as they collided with his skull.

Hermione was instinctively a peaceful person. Conflict of any kind upset and disturbed her greatly. And when her best friend had become more and more combative, her thin body becoming lined with lean, powerful muscle meant for breaking bones, Hermione couldn't help but shy away, despite how Iris was also passionate and friendly, the ever-present heat warming the bushy-haired girl's flesh whenever she was near. Once Iris had cast her Patronus for the first time, Hermione felt nothing but dread in that moment. Hermione knew what Patronuses were supposed to look like. Solid animals of silver light or mist that sort of pushed a Dementor away. That was what most wizards or witches got. Iris had instead unleashed a towering golden monster of flame and rage from her ebony wand, the beast bellowing in fury as it descended upon the soul-sucking wraiths, doing what almost every scholar and book claimed to be impossible.

She had killed Dementors. At thirteen years old, with a Draconic Patronus that put every other dragon in the world to shame, Iris Potter had killed not one, not two, but _**fifty**_ Dementors. Then Hermione had looked upon her, surrounded by those golden flames, Iris's eyes the same color as fire, and a towering dragon had stood behind the girl as a shadow.

Hermione Granger had been utterly terrified of her best friend.

Afterwards, when Peter Pettigrew had been taken to Azkaban and Sirius taken to St. Mungo's for extended Dementor exposure, Hermione was no longer comfortable around the black-haired girl. When Iris had asked her what was wrong, she had shied away. Her heart shattered at the shocked and broken look on Iris's face, but no matter what she did, Hermione could not stop being afraid of her. Hermione had avoided her for the rest of the year, Ron only scratching his head in confusion. She wanted to tell him that something was wrong, but Hermione knew that without seeing it for himself, he would never understand her terror. After that, as summer rolled around, Hermione had had more time to herself to try and puzzle out her friend's…difference, to put it nicely. In fact, the distance had helped the fear fade, so by the time the middle of summer rolled around, Hermione was ecstatic to see her friend again. However, Iris had avoided Hermione something fierce when they saw each other again, the girl's emerald eyes shining with pain and anger. Hermione knew it was her fault and had resolved to fix it after the Quidditch World Cup.

Then the terror had reared its ugly head once more as the Death Eaters had attacked. They had been told to run as the black robed, skull masked figures had begun setting tents aflame and casting spells left and right to wreak havoc across the field. One of the Death Eaters had grabbed Hermione…only to have his arm torn out of its socket as Iris had grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled, her eyes once more the reptilian gold of an apex predator as she grabbed the man by the throat and threw him a hundred yards.

The first blast of red spell fire had made Iris stumble, before a rumbling growl had issued from her throat and she got her feet under her. Twice more, Mr. Weasley had tried to stun her, both times Iris seemed to brush it off. Then Percy, Ron, Fred and George, _AND_ Mr. Weasley had Stunned her all at once, the black-haired girl going down like a sack of bricks. Arthur had tried to brush it off, but the look on his face said he was as unnerved as she. A fourteen-year-old had torn a man's arm off and thrown him a hundred yards before taking eight Stunning spells before going down for less than an hour. Then there was Iris's eyes. Mr. Weasley had brushed it off as a trick of the light, but Hermione knew he was deeply disturbed. And as with before, she avoided Iris, the girl's inhuman nature scaring her more than she had ever been scared before. And once again, her friend was hurting because of it.

The tournament was the first time she had ever seen Iris avoid a fight. When asked if she was going to try and enter the Triwizard Tournament, she had said:

"Why? I have more money than I know what to do with, and I'm famous for something I don't even remember. I have no valid reason to even attempt to enter."

Though, the way those emerald eyes had flickered to Hermione told the bushy-haired girl that Iris was trying to be better. For her, to heal what The-Girl-Who-Lived had broken. She was still very aggressive towards Draco, but Hermione let that slide since the Pureblood was an arrogant, vengeful prick who continuously poked and prodded. They had been starting to get close again, with Iris paying Hermione compliments that made the bookworm blush something fierce, with Iris giving soft smiles in return, those elongated canines of hers suddenly looking very attractive when combined with the scar over her left eye.

Then everything had gone wrong. Iris hadn't even gone to the Choosing, the girl suddenly so exhausted that she had put on her nightclothes and collapsed onto her bed, snoring softly as she snuggled under the sheets. Hermione had only given a soft smile before heading down to the Great Hall. Everything had gone smoothly at first. First chosen was Victor Krum of Durmstrang. Second was Fleur Delacour of the Beauxbatons. Finally, was Cedric Diggory of Hufflepuff. And everything was fine.

Right up until the Goblet's flames turned blazing gold and spat out one last piece of paper with a single name on it: Iris Potter.

Professor Dumbledore had summoned Iris with a wave of his wand and POOF, her whole bed had popped into the middle of the Great Hall, Iris passed out with the covers around her ankles, her dark red tank top and tan night pants askew as she snored softly. Right up until a Slytherin rushed out of his seat to pour a cup of water over her. Not a good idea, as Iris had reacted a bit…aggressively. Even as the grin spread across his face, emerald eyes had snapped open the same moment a fist had collided with his face, sending him flying into the opposite wall as Iris had sat up blearily, her messy black hair messier than usual as the girl rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. The look on her face had said it all, that she had no idea what anyone was talking about when they said her name had come out of the Cup. One thing Hermione loved about Iris was that the girl was a terrible liar.

Within a day, the entire school had turned against Iris except for Wendy and Hermione, though Hermione was so focused on looking through as much as the library as she could to find how Iris's name had gotten into the Cup that she neglected her friend.

And now she was about to die.

**Iris Potter**

It was odd to face one's impending doom in front of people she had known for four years now. Standing at the entrance to the arena, she had spotted Wendy in the stands next to Hermione, her big brown eyes filled with fear for her big sister figure. Iris would've waved to the two girls but at that moment, her eyes had landed on the dragon and her brain went completely blank. It was a beast to be reckoned with, and not something that she could go up against with her usual plan of 'go in and punch it until it dies'.

Oh, Hell no. I'm crazy, not stupid, is was she thought to herself as she dodged the first blast of fire. The damn thing was fifty feet long and covered in both jet-black scales and three-foot-long spikes. That wasn't counting the massive talons on her hind legs and at the bend in her wings, nor was that considering the massive teeth that made her wish for the Basilisk back. That thing had only had two fangs that big. The Horntail had over fifty teeth that size. Iris had gone up against the troll, Fluffy, Quirrell/Voldemort (Quirrelemort?), the Basilisk, and a horde of Dementors with a feral grin on her face. She knew Hermione was horrified by her combative nature, but she couldn't help it. Every fight forced her to fight harder than before, allowing her to grow stronger to surpass each new challenge set before her.

This dragon on the other hand…? Nope, she was lucky she wasn't pissing her pants. Though, for some reason, Iris thought the dragon would be more…impressive. Now that she saw it, despite being scared nearly shitless, Iris felt that it was missing something important before she considered it a Full Dragon. Though it would probably be better to figure that out when she wasn't about to be burnt to a crisp. Which she had been avoiding for three minutes so far and was already running on fumes.

Of course, it would probably be better to come up with a better plan then 'keep running and try not to die'. Though that would be easier if Ludo Bagman wasn't narrating EVERY FREAKING SECOND OF THE TRIAL!

Speaking of which…

"Oooo, cut off once again. Looks like Ms. Potter is having one heck of a time getting to the egg. I wonder what she'll do next!" the man said in a far too excited voice.

Iris spotted a rock on the ground next to her and a smile grew on her lips.

"What's this? She's picking something up from the ground. A rock? Is she going to use it to distract the dragon or—OW!"

Iris had thrown the rock at Ludo.

"I'm trying to keep from dying down here and you YELLING IN MY EARS IS NOT HELPING!" Iris shouted up at him. "SO SHUT UP AND LET ME LIVE, DAMN IT!"

The man rubbed the bruise on his head as the crowd laughed at him, Iris shrinking down behind the rock as the Horntail opened fire, her blaze melting the stone and forcing Iris to make a mad dash to the left, the ends of her school robe smoking as she ran. Iris could hear the beast cut off the flame as she began sniffing at the rock. Iris hid behind another rock just in time for the dragon to miss spotting her as the black-haired teen began taking calming breaths.

_Okay, what'll work on this thing?_ She thought as she took a peek around the stone at the nesting dragon. _Magics an option…but what to use? I could use my Patronus to distract her, maybe keep her occupied for a minute or so…_

_Or you could just run in and punch her in the throat,_ came the rumbling, rebellious voice in the back of her head. The same one that made Hermione so afraid of her. Every time she listened to that voice, Hermione had become more and more afraid. She squashed the voice. Not only was that idea stupid, it was reckless and suicidal. And Iris like living. And Eagles…and cake. Especially strawberry cake. She shook her head to clear the idiotic thoughts.

Picking up another rock, she waited, trusting her instincts to tell her the best time to move. She winced as the intense heat crashed into the stone outcropping, the heat causing the ends of her hair to smoke. She threw the rock to the right, smirking as the flames followed. However, the dragon seemed to have tricked her, for as soon as she dashed to the left, the spiked tail of the Horntail crashed into her abdomen, an ivory spike piercing her stomach and sending her flying.

By some miracle, she landed on her feet and dove into cover, her hand covering the hole in her gut as the Horntail unleashed a jet of flame at her current position.

_Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck!_ She cursed as she kept her hand pressed to her stomach as she tried to stem the bleeding. _Damn it, I can't die here! I survived Voldemort, the Basilisk, Zeref, none of them could kill me. This sorry excuse for a dragon won't stop me. So just get the fuck up and run for the fucking egg already!_

In her moment of panic, Iris neglected to throw a rock to try and throw the dragon off again. She just ran.

_Wait…who the hell is Zeref?_

She barely made it five feet before that thought sprang to the forefront of her mind and she spotted the Horntail with a look of predatory glee in her eye as the flame grew in the back of her throat. Time slowed to a crawl as her eyes locked onto Hermione's. She could see the horror growing in the girl's light brown eyes as the girl realized what was about to happen. For some reason, Iris gave a small smile as the dragon unleashed the flames. _I'm sorry,_ she mouthed to Hermione. And then the flames hit.

The flames licked her skin, boiling her flesh and destroying her clothing as her magic surged to try and protect her. However, the heat and intensity of the dragon fire quickly burned away the protective cloak, leaving her vulnerable to the heat of the blast. She screamed, her cry overcoming the sound of the inferno consuming her flesh.

_At least I made sure to fire proof my underwear,_ her pain-riddled mind quipped. Then her brain did something very odd.

_Eat it,_ that rumbling voice said. _Open up and suck it down like a nice bowl of ramen!_

Now, Iris's brain often went to very strange places, making the oddest connections to different things. Ice wasn't just cold. It was a pervert who needed to learn to keep his pants on. Metal was hard and Lightning was fast, but both were massive assholes, but also friends. Water, soothing and wet and also obsessed over Ice like a creepy stalker. Giants were massive and wise but also short and drunk. Knights were noble and powerful, but also scary and a bit crazy. The Sky was vast and beautiful, but reminded her of Wendy. Things like that.

Right now, her brain was saying that Fire was safe and warm, but also…**TASTY!**

_Well…if I'm wrong, I'm dead anyways._ She grinned. And with Instincts long since buried, Iris Potter opened wide and began to inhale. In that moment, something impossible began to happen. Devoid of magic and desperate for survival, Iris grabbed hold of something deep within her, a power that hadn't been seen in over fifteen thousand years. The flames began to spiral as it began to travel through her lungs and into her stomach. Slowly, Iris not only noticed that not only was she still alive, but the flames no longer hurt! But somehow, the act of devouring the flames; for that was exactly what she was doing, consuming the fire and regaining magical power as she did; was even more incredible and heartwarming than anything she had ever done before. The fire that was passing her lungs and entering her stomach was completely and utterly…delicious!

_MORE!_ Her mind roared, and her magic reacted, drawing more and more power from the flames, the energy soothing her muscles and recharging her magic, sending her already massive reserve of energy skyrocketing. It felt incredible! But also familiar as the warmth of the flames rushed through her body.

As the last vestiges of fire was sucked down her throat, she stumbled back a bit, falling to her knees as she heaved with excitement. Her emerald eyes, now laced with reptilian gold, moved to lock onto the dragon, and at once she knew exactly what the beast was missing.

Sapience.

A growl built up in her chest as her excitement turned to rage. This overgrown lizard DARED to claim the title of Dragon!? NO! She wouldn't except it! Such a pathetic creature had no right to be called Dragon! Not when so many others were more worthy than she. In comparison, her fires were lit candles, her roars squeaks, her talons toothpicks, her presence that of a starving hound begging for scraps from the Big Table. She had no right, none whatsoever to bare any resemblance to those who had come before. And so, Iris would tear her down, show her what real Fire felt like, what a real Dragon looked like, and hear what a real Dragon Roared like! She could do that much for her Father.

She pushed herself to her feet, eyes narrowed at the overgrown gecko, ignoring the gasps of surprise that her survival had brought on. With open eyes and open ears, she ignored the intakes of breath as she drew herself to her full height, despite to gaping wound in her stomach. Gazing into her eyes, Iris almost pitied the lizard, but the rage she felt at her insult quickly burned everything away as the growl, inhuman and almost demonic it was, built up in her chest, shaking her bones as she bared her teeth, smoke hissing from between her jaws until she threw her head back let loose an almighty ROAR!

"_**RRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRGGHH!"**_ she bellowed, her roar shaking and cracking the earth as it drowned out the screams of terror from the crowd. Even as her jaws snapped shut, she could hear a single whisper amongst the screaming civilians.

"Iris…" it was a terror filled whisper. The voice was familiar, but Iris had no time to figure out who it was. The crowd was silenced as brilliant flames sprang to life around her, the fire pouring out of every pore in Iris's body. But as the flames of a True Dragon gathered in her hands, all Iris cared about was this moment. The moment she let loose, and reminded the world of a power they had long forgotten. Reminded the world of just who she was. With a roar, she charged, shouting her attack to the heavens.

"_**Fire Dragon: Iron Fist!**__**"**_, she cried as her fist crashed into the lizard's jaw, knocking the reptile flat as she gave it a feral grin.

_I'm all fired up!_

**Hermione Granger**

Hermione couldn't believe her eyes. Her friend was alive. And much, MUCH stronger now than when she had entered the arena. It didn't seem possible. Despite Iris's absurd level of magical power, Hermione had known with absolute certainty that her friend was walking to her death. Throughout the trial, Wendy had buried her face in Hermione's robes, too afraid to look as Iris ran back and forth, avoiding fire blasts and tail strikes left and right. Then she had taken a hit from the tail, a strike that obviously pierced her flesh as the blood spurted from the girl's stomach as she flew through the air, miraculously landing on her feet before diving behind cover once again. It wasn't more than a few moments later when she dashed out again. But for some reason, she froze. Even before the dragon unleashed its life-ending maelstrom, both Iris and Hermione knew what was going to happen. A soft smile found its way onto Iris's face as her emerald eyes locked on Hermione's soft brown.

_I'm sorry,_ Iris mouthed. Hermione's eyes widened as the flames shot toward Iris.

"IRIS!" She screamed as the flames engulfed her friend. Iris gave an agony filled scream as the flames wrapped around her. Wendy sobbed into her robes as Hermione pulled her close, keeping the third-year girl from watching her foster sister burn to death even as Sirius Black; who had arrived from Saint Mungo's to support his Goddaughter; could only stare in horror. Hermione could see Iris's silhouette, her clothes burning away as she fell to her knees. Tears began to fall as Hermione watched her best friend die.

But that's not what happened. A few moments after the flames wrapped around Iris, they started to…swirl, like water down the loo, with an odd sucking noise emanating from the center of the flames. It took her a moment, but Hermione understood something. Iris was eating the flames! Sucking them down as though they were her favorite bowl of ramen noodles (pork with orange marmalade glaze and beef with barbecue glaze dropped in noodles after the juice was carefully mix in with the broth), rather than being turned by ash by them. Slowly at first, but with quickly increasing speed, the flames were sucked down Iris's gullet, leaving the girl kneeling on the stone, her body heaving, from exhaustion or excitement, Hermione couldn't tell. And frankly, it didn't matter if she couldn't tell because everything had stopped making sense. Those flames should have turned Iris Potter to nothing more than a pile of ash with a few shards of bone mixed in. But instead, Iris had devoured dragon fire, and was absolutely fine, though a bit…different.

As she pushed herself to her feet, Hermione noticed several things. First, her shoulder-length hair; once simply messy; was now spikes that crisscrossed haphazardly as it fell across her shoulders and between her shoulder blades, Iris's face now framed by the spikey black locks. The tattered remains of her robe had somehow survived…mostly. The top half was gone, leaving Iris in a formfitting, rather attractive black sports bra with the lower half of her clothing consisting of singed pants and a tattered mantle that billowed around her legs. Hermione sweat-dropped as she realized that Iris's joke about fire-proofing her underwear had not, in fact, been a joke.

As Iris's eyes flashed open, Hermione recoiled as she saw the gold in her friend's emerald eyes. Unlike with the Dementors and at the World Cup where the gold had taken over Iris's eyes entirely, the gold was now mixed with the emerald, as though someone had liquified gold and poured it into the cracks of an emerald gem. But the intensity in Iris's eyes…there was no doubt. Those were a Dragon's eyes, inhuman and unfeeling, but at the same time passionate and warm as they locked on her own for a split second, the slit-pupil widening ever so slightly. They had no place on a human being, but for some reason they fit Iris perfectly. Those reptilian eyes locked on the Hungarian Horntail and Iris's face twisted into a snarl, fangs bared as a rumble shook the arena. Hermione was the first to realize that the rumble was a growl. Coming from Iris. Hermione looked down at Wendy, only to see the girl staring at Iris in awe, as though Iris was something incredible that she had never seen before.

"_**RRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRGGHH!"**_ came the bellow of fury that had Hermione covering her ears as her eyes locked onto her friend, who was unleashing the inhuman roar as flames flared to life around her, the earth-shaking bellow sending a shock of terror through her bones as it came to an end.

"Iris…" she whispered, staring in terror as the flames began to swirl and gather in Iris's hand. The flames around the black-haired teen twisted and sputtered until once more Iris's Patronus was called into the world, the massive golden dragon roaring in fury as it stood behind the teen, crimson eyes burning as they locked onto the Horntail. Hermione wanted to do nothing more than run, to run as far and as fast as she could to get as far away as possible from the gargantuan beast. But the emotional part of her brain kept her rooted on the spot as she stared at Iris. She had called the flames to hand as though she did it every day, but Hermione had never seen such magic before. It wasn't even possible for such magic. Most wandless magic required a focused and empty mind to be used effectively. Iris was all emotion, passion and warmth, her mind always going a million miles an hour any time she wasn't in a fight.

It was too much. Hermione's mind, which was built upon logic and reason, could no longer handle the absurdity of what was happening right now. Her friend had consumed Dragon Fire as though it were her favorite meal. She had survived being bathed in said Fire. And now she was commanding flame as though it were an extension of herself. She couldn't handle it anymore. As her body began to succumb to the desire to pass out, she heard Wendy calling her name, Hagrid shouting as he spotted her fall, and Iris cry out something that shook her very being, shaking loose something deep within her, something she hadn't even known was there.

"_**Fire Dragon: Iron Fist!**__**"**_

It was an utterance of declaration and power. But more than that, it was a call to something ancient and powerful, an ancient and legendary power that had once made the entirety of the world shake in terror. It was a call to all that had been Lost and forgotten. And a Call to all that would be once more.

They were words that would call for the end of an age. Words that would allow for another to rise from the ashes. Words that had once been known around the world, yet in the passage of time, they had become mere rumor of an ancient force. They were the words of a Warrior, a Protector…and an unrepentant blight on property values.

It was the Call of a Dragon.

**Iris Potter**

Iris barely felt it when her fist collided with the underside of the Horntail's head, her Flames granting her a level strength she had never known before, but somehow felt familiar. The explosive force that emanated from her fist knocked the massive reptile into the air. Higher and higher it went until the chain wrapped around its neck grew taunt before…

_CRACK!_

The magically wrought metal snapped free of the stones it had been chained to, the metal whipping through the air. Iris's eyes locked onto the end of the chain. Upon being uprooted, the chain still had chunks of earth and stone clinging to the metal as it flew. The length of magically forged chains zipped through the air, pulled along by the dragon it was attached to. And Iris could clearly see where it would pass.

To most of the spectators, everything was happening too fast for them to track. To those who were experienced with keeping track of spell-fire, they were watching with rapt attention, watching as Iris moved faster than any human was capable and grabbed the end of the chain as it flew at her head. With an almighty heave, she yanked the dragon back down, her lean, but powerful muscles rippling as she did. With her above-average reflexes, Iris could have dodged the chain with ease, however she wanted; no, needed; to teach this overgrown gecko a lesson it wouldn't soon forget.

As Iris yanked on the chain and dragged the reptile down to earth, she used the chain and her powerful legs to launch herself up and into a perfect backflip, her right leg engulfed in flames as she shouted once more, a declaration of power that few others in the world could ever attain.

"_**Fire Dragon: Talon**__**!**__**" **_

The force of the explosion knocked the Horntail back once more, several of her teeth shattering from the force of the blow. The beast roared in fury and indignation. She was supposed to be the most dangerous of creatures in the world, and yet this pipsqueak of a human was knocking her around as simply as she would a sheep. The beast lashed out with her tail, only Iris wouldn't be caught unaware twice. Twisting her body, she slipped between a pair of spikes, wrapped her arm around the long appendage and pulled.

With a wild grin and a whoop of excitement, she lifted the dragon by the tail and swung her around once before throwing the beast to the opposite side of the arena from the golden egg that was her objective.

The Egg. Something in her mind clicked and suddenly Iris remembered that she wasn't there to fight a dragon. She was there to grab that stupid egg and get the hell out. She shook her head. It didn't matter anymore. With the way the Horntail was glaring at her, Iris would have to beat it to get out of the arena. She growled, her fangs bared as she charged the beast once more. The dragon inhaled, the glow in the back of her throat hinting at the maelstrom that was approaching. Iris gave a feral grin as she slid to a halt and inhaled as well, feeling the fire in her stomach rise up as she roared.

_**"Fire Dragon: Roar**__**!**__**"**_

The blaze exited her throat the same moment the stream of flame spewed from the Horntail. In a single instant, it was more than obvious who was the stronger Dragon. Iris's Dragon Fire quickly halted the Horntail's in its tracks, the blast creating a concussive wave as the streams of fire battled in the center of the Arena. However, Iris's Dragon Fire quickly overcame the Horntail's, the flames racing forward to blast the Wyvern into the wall of the arena.

_**"Fire Dragon: Iron Fist**__**!**__**"**_

Iris's flaming fist collided with the Wyvern's skull as she attempted to push herself to her feet, shattering several of the scales upon the Wyvern's crown while several of the spike that adorned the Horntail's head snapped like twigs, causing the reptile to roar in pain before she fell silent as Iris's green-gold eyes locked onto her own red ones, the girl's left foot resting on the Horntail's snout. Everything fell silent as Dragon Slayer stared down Dragon-wannabe, the entire arena holding their breath for the final blow. Instead they heard Iris Potter speak.

"Now stay down," she growled through clenched teeth.

At the Wyvern's whimper, the entirety of the arena fell deathly silent as the audience gaped at the girl.

With that, the teenager picked up the Golden Egg and made for the entrance to the arena, unaware of two things. First, how all eyes were on her as she walked away, even the Hungarian Horntail's. Second, how a crimson tattoo had shimmered into existence on her right shoulder in the shape of tailed fairy.

* * *

_**Yes, i am more than aware that this is yet another story i've put out before i've updated any of my others. I am very sorry and will keep working on getting those out.**_

_**I own nothing but this story.**_

_**Now then, to put it simply: Iris is a uber strong badass with Natsu Dragneel's issues with not thinking ahead before he attacks. As such, expect Dragon Slayer levels of collateral damage every now and again, because it wouldn't be a Fairy Tail fic without collateral damage.**_

_**Yes, Wendy is still a Dragon Slayer. As are the others who will pop up in later chapters.**_

_**Please be polite when you review. If you don't like it, don't read it. Nobody is forcing you to read this.**_

_**Thanks for reading and goodnight!**_


	2. Chapter 2

_**Albus Dumbledore**_

Violence. Sheer, unadulterated violence on a scale that could scarcely be believed. Especially the person responsible was a fourteen-year-old girl. Iris Potter had been dealing out brutal vengeance against the Horntail and had been winning. It had been a display of power, magic and skill that none of the other Champions; or dare he say it, any witch or wizard to date; could ever hope to achieve even if they trained the entirety of their long lives to reach such heights. It was a sight that would be remembered for decades; if not centuries; to come. The sheer horror and brutality of the fight that had a fourteen-year-old girl beating a Hungarian Horntail within an inch of its life would be glossed over for the fact that it had been done to begin with.

Albus wasn't a violent man. At least, he liked the think that; in his heart; he was a man of peace. He abhorred destruction and death, feeling that the world's energy could be put to better use than destroying homes and killing innocents. His father and sister, along with all those he had had to fight through and everyone who had suffered at Gellert's and Tom's hands. So many deaths weighed on him, and Albus did not doubt for a single moment many more would join that weight before his end. Chief among them would be young Iris, if he was correct about the young lady. To put an end to yet another Dark Lord, young Iris would have to die. Albus could only hope beyond hope that it was a mutual destruction.

That being said, Iris was the type of person to fight against her destiny with all her heart, to forge her own path and live her life to the fullest. That only made his plan even harder. Albus considered Iris his granddaughter, and the fact that she had to die for Voldemort to be truly destroyed broke his heart. Even if young Iris wasn't particularly fond of him. Which for the life of him he could not understand.

The only good thing Albus could see out of Iris's new power was that just from that display, he was more than certain she could go head to head with Voldemort…while only using a fraction of her true strength. Something that most Witches and Wizards thought themselves above was physical combat. The act of getting up close and personal with your opponent and beating the person into submission. Iris, on the other hand, preferred this method when it came to dealing with her adversaries.

During her battle with the Voldemort possessed Quirrell, the eleven year old had performed a perfect split and punched the man directly in the groin, a move that shocked the more experienced wizard long enough for the girl to send a right cross rocketing into his face, breaking both his nose and his jaw before the man began to disintegrate. Had Voldemort not been possessing Quirrell, the second blow would have only knocked the man unconscious. However, thanks to the Protections Lily had placed upon her daughter, mixed with the spectre within the man's body, Quirrell had died.

Being an eleven-year-old who had just killed a man, Iris had vomited up her dinner before Albus had a chance to pull her away from the sight.

It was because of her reaction that Albus knew she was not a Dark Lady in the making. But Iris had continued forward, meeting all the obstacles in her path head on, beating them into dust as she went. The blood and venom of the Basilisk on the Sword of Gryffindor was a testament to that.

When examining Ms. Weasley's memories, he had watched through bleary eyes as Iris had pushed her magic into the Sword, causing the weapon to spark with magic lightning of emerald green; which had been a sure sign of Iris' magic until now. He had watched as she had moved with more speed and skill than anyone her age should have, becoming a blur of silver-emerald metal and black robes as she became a spinning blade of pain, the Sword of Gryffindor slicing through the Basilisk's hide with ease. A solid punch to its jaw had a fang break off, only for the twelve-year-old to snatch it out of the air and shove it through what remained the massive serpent's left eye. After the beast had gotten a rather lucky shot in and one of its fangs was embedded in her shoulder, Iris had shoved the Sword of Gryffindor up through the roof of the snake's mouth, killing it almost instantly before she had yanked the blade out and shoved it through Tom Riddle's diary, the blade sinking up to the hilt in the stone under the book.

Iris had fallen onto her rear with a pained grin on her face, laughing slightly as she yanked out the fang from her shoulder and Fawkes had healed her. Once the pain was gone, her face has split in to a triumphant grin and the girl had thrown her head back and howled in laughter. Albus would have been concerned had Iris not moved and picked up Ginny as gently as she could, the red-haired girl still too weak to move very much as she had leaned into the emerald-eyed girl's chest as she fell asleep. Albus hadn't been able to help the small smile that had touched his face as he felt the beginnings of a small crush spark to life within the youngest Weasley's mind.

Looking into Mr. Weasley's mind, Iris had carried the red-haired child back to the entrance of the Chamber of Secrets, where Ronald Weasley had been waiting for her after clearing out a majority of the rubble from Gilderoy's failed memory charm. Fawkes had carried the four individuals up the long tunnel before alighting on Iris' shoulder as she carried the Weasley girl to the Hospital Wing. After handing the girl to Madam Pomfrey, Iris, despite her obvious exhaustion had moved to Hermione Granger's side and promptly passed out in a chair next to her Petrified friend.

Her gentleness had reminded Albus of a lioness looking after her cubs. One second, a vicious beast of rage and protective fury, the next, the most kind-hearted being around.

Her ability to clear her godfather's name had been a feat of strength all its own. He had been rather surprised when Peter Pettigrew; gagged and chained with a black eye and bloody nose; had been dragged into the Great Hall during supper, the near-skeletal form of Sirius Black walking shakily behind Iris, Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger. The girl had tossed Pettigrew at Cornelius' feet with a fury filled gaze that had the Minister of Magic shrinking back from the thirteen-year-old. Black had been exonerated of Pettigrew's murder right then and there as a trio of Auror's came to carry Peter away to Azkaban; where he would be questioned on the circumstances of his survival with the use of Veritaserum; while Sirius had been taken to St. Mungo's to be treated for twelve years of Dementor Exposure.

Now the girl stood victorious over a Hungarian Horntail, the most dangerous of the dragon races. And Dumbledore couldn't help but wonder if Iris was just as dangerous as Voldemort. It normally took a team of fully-trained wizards to subdue a dragon of the species, and yet Iris had done it on her own with no help whatsoever, as every person in the stands had been too busy watching the girl throw a dragon around like a ragdoll. Part of Albus prayed that Iris' new power could mean an end to the blood wars. With the power the girl now wielded, Albus wondered if she would be able to meet the self-styled Lord Voldemort on equal ground on the field of battle. If she did, which would win? The brilliant Flame of the Girl-Who-Lived, or the dark magics of the 'Heir of Slytherin'?

And yet, curiosity pushed through the fear and hope. Never in all his long years had Albus heard even the tiniest of whispers of such magic. The closest thing he could compare it to was the magic of a scarlet-haired Hufflepuff, but even that paled in comparison. The old man wondered what this magic meant for the world as a whole. The sheer level of Iris' power meant it would be very difficult to hide in the Muggle world. A chill went up the old man's spine as he imagined the paperwork that would come with the potential damages that would undoubtedly follow. But that didn't stem the curiosity. Could others learn this magic? Could it bring about the world he had dreamed of since his defeat of his old friend? Only time would tell what would happen.

_**Erza Scarlet**_

The Hufflepuff girl's light brown eyes narrowed at the raven-haired girl walking tiredly toward the arena entrance. Before today, all she had ever heard of the girl was that while she was a powerful witch, she was also reckless and hard-headed, running head-long into dangerous situations without stopping to think. Granted, that course of action had served the girl well, what with saving the Weasley girl from certain death within the Chamber of Secrets.

Iris Potter had done what Erza had been too busy to do and had taken the young Wendy Marvel under her wing, protecting the girl from the countless bullies that spread through the school, often sending those responsible to the Hospital Wing. The girl was intelligent and warm-hearted, along with fiercely protective of her friends.

Her accomplishments aside, Erza hadn't thought much of the girl. After all, for all her magical strength, Erza's skill and unique form of magic would have beaten the Girl-Who-Lived in battle at any time. Now however…she wasn't so sure. Thanks to 'The Knight', Erza had a great many powerful weapons and armor stored up, but she doubted she would've been capable of defeating a dragon at fourteen years old. Ms. Potter on the other hand had done just that with enough raw strength and magical power to not only defeat the reptile, but managed to beat the creature within an inch of its life with relative ease, despite young Iris having been wounded early on in the Task.

A hungry ache entered Erza's chest. A familiar hunger for a challenge, something she had been denied for several years. This girl could do just that. Challenge her in a battle to be remembered.

_**Iris Potter**_

Iris was aching all over as she collapsed onto the cot within the Champions tent. The hole in her gut was pulsing, the adrenaline of the battle with the Horntail leaving her body, causing her muscles to scream as she laid out on the cot.

Her green eyes fluttered shut as she groaned, grinding her teeth together as her bones and muscles ached. While her body was exhausted, her mind was running a thousand miles an hour, wondering where the power she had drawn upon had come from. She knew without a shadow of a doubt that she had never been able to consume fire before, nor had she ever been strong enough to lift and throw a dragon that weighed at the very least ten tons of muscle, bone, scales and bad attitude. It just didn't make any sense. Yes, Iris had always been absurdly strong, evident from when she had broken a twelve-foot-tall mountain troll's neck with a single punch or when she had shattered the Basilisks fangs with a well-aimed blow. But to throw a beast of such size with the ease she had was physically impossible for woman of her stature. That wasn't even considering the Fire-type magic she had called upon. As far as she knew, her magic took the form of emerald lightning, not golden flames. It was supposed to be physically impossible for a witch's magic to change so drastically in such a short period of time. And then there was that name that had popped into her head just before she had gotten engulfed in dragon fire.

_Zeref…why does that name sound so familiar…? Damn it! None of this makes any sense!_ Her mind screamed as she glared at the maroon and scarlet ceiling of the tent.

Her musings were interrupted when noise blasted into her ears.

"GOOD LORD, POTTER! WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU!?" came the scream of a vaguely familiar voice. Iris bolted up and slapped her hands over her ears as the sound pounded into her eardrums.

Of all the injuries she had taken on the field; getting stabbed with a dragon spike, being launched thirty feet into the air, being set on fire; her ears being stabbed was most definitely not one of them. And despite how loud and painful it was on her ears, Iris was more than aware of the fact that Madam Pomfrey was speaking in her soft, concerned tones, a sound the raven-haired Gryffindor had grown accustomed to over the last three years of continuously being sent to the Hospital Wing. It sounded as though the Matron of the medical ward had cast a Sonorous Charm on her voice and decided to scream into Iris's ears.

As she inhaled with a hiss of pain, air rushed through her nose and immediately she knew something else was wrong. She could smell the burnt cloth that was hung around her waist, the coppery scent of the blood that was oozing from the hole in her gut, and the scent of…lamb stew? She also caught the scent of sweat and blood that wasn't her own, the smell of burnt cloth that was further away.

Her nose was stronger as well…bloody brilliant.

_Great. Now I'm more of a freak than I already was…_

"POTTER, WHERE ARE YOU INJURED?" asked the Matron as she rushed to the Gryffindor's side.

Iris gritted her teeth as she hissed, "Tail spike to the stomach, minor burns on shoulders and around stab wound. Please be a bit quieter, ma'am."

The woman blinked in surprise at her list of injuries, but looked rather confused at her request for her to be quiet. Considering that the girl was covered with soot and blood, but was holding her head as though she had just been stabbed in the ears, the older woman simply nodded as she bent over to examine the wound on her stomach.

After all, the girl had been to the Hospital Wing enough times to earn a plaque on the bed she was always put in, and had a moderate amount of knowledge about injuries from their conversations when the raven-haired witch was confined to her bed.

Madam Pomfrey took a wet rag and carefully dabbed the wound on Iris's stomach, the teen growling in pain as the torn flesh was aggravated more than it already was.

"I'm going to try and clean this up a bit, Ms. Potter," Pomfrey said as she drew her wand. "Try to stay as still as possible."

Iris sighed in relief as the woman's voice filtered through her hands. The woman had thankfully lowered her voice to a whisper to keep from aggravating her ears anymore than they already were. Iris watched as the woman worked, or tried to anyways. Both their brows furrowed when Madam Pomfrey attempted to clean off the blood and use a spell to seal the wound. The two exchanged a glance, green meeting gray before the older woman refocused on her magic. Iris's skin felt odd as Pomfrey put more power into her magic, almost as though she was being hit with an ice-cold breeze in one spot around her skin.

The Matron tried harder, and after a few moments, was rewarded by the blood vanishing and the wound beginning to seal as there was a light pop, as though there were a skin-tight bubble of magic around Iris's body, keeping foreign magic from touching her.

That would explain how I resisted the Stunning Spells at the World Cup. Iris thought with a tilted head.

However, Madam Pomfrey chose that moment to jump back in what seemed like shock and terror as she stared at Iris with fear in her eyes. The raven-haired witch frowned as she beheld the matron.

"Uuuh…Madam Pomfrey?" she poked out, moving her hands away from her ears. "Are you alright?"

The older woman jolted and shook her head as though to clear the cobwebs from her mind.

"IT-ITS NOTHING MS. POTTER." Iris's hands slapped back over her ears as the Matron's voice roared through her eardrums, her razor-sharp teeth bared in a snarl of pain.

"Mind turning the noise down just a bit?" she growled out as she kept her hands over her stupidly sensitive ears.

Madam Pomfrey's brow furrowed and she leaned forward. "Ms. Potter, what are you feeling right now?" her voice was the lowest of whispers, so quiet that someone covering their ears should not have been able to hear her, but Iris did.

"It's like someone took all of my senses and turned the dial up to a hundred when its only supposed to go to ten. I can hear…I think it's everyone's heartbeats. I can smell Fleur's burnt dress, the lamb on your breath, the blood dripping from Krum's upper arm." Her teeth groaned as she clenched her jaw. "I just want it to stop!"

Unbidden, the golden flames roared to life, swirling around the teenager like a protective cloak as she pressed her hands against her ears in a vain attempt to shut out the noise that was pounding on her eardrums from a thousand different sources. Pomfrey jumped back quickly to avoid being burned by the gold flames that are pouring out of the teenager.

Immediately, the teen cursed as she focused on calming down, trying as hard as she could to pull the flames back into herself. It took a minute or so, but the flames finally receded. When she looked up however, Madam Pomfrey was gone, though Iris could vaguely hear the sound of rapidly receding footsteps coming from…outside the tent. A wave of sound from the crowd outside had the teen slapping her hands back over her ears, debating whether or not to cast a Silencing Charm on the stadium to keep from having her eardrums blown out.

"_Excusez-moi, Mademe Potter?_" came a musical voice that had Iris snapping her head around. Fleur Delacour was squatting right in front of her, her dark-blue eyes locked onto Iris's emerald. "_Est-ce que tu vas bien? Vous semblez malade...?_"

Iris blinked before responding, memories of learning French from the local library back in Surrey coming to her. "_Je vais mieux, Madame Delacour. J'aimerais juste pouvoir faire quelque chose pour mon audition._"

The French witch's eyes lit up at Iris's use of French before she chewed on her lip for a moment. "_Si vous le souhaitez... je pense pouvoir vous aider avec ça..._"

Iris only thought about it for a moment before another roar of sound sunk through her hands, causing her to wince ever so slightly before she nodded. "_Oui s'il te plaît Fleur. J'apprécierais grandement cela._"

The silver-haired witch nodded softly and raised her want. Fleur maneuvered it around to the bands that pierced the arch of her ears, something Iris had gotten that summer. The quarte Veela muttered, "_**Faites le monde silencieux, laissez chanter la magie.**_"

For a moment, there was a high-pitched whine, as though someone were adjusting the volume on a speaker before suddenly, the dull roar from the crowd in the stands fell away, leaving only the sound of her own heartbeat and that of those within the tent and just around the tent. Iris couldn't stop the moan of relief as her enhanced hearing was suddenly much more manageable, her hands falling away from her ears as she flopped back on the cot.

"Oh, that is soooo much better…" she groaned in relief. She sat back up and smiled softly at the young woman before her. "_Merci, Fleur_."

Fleur gave a bright smile as she moved and sat down next to Iris, the younger woman scooting over a bit to make room on the cot. "My pleasure, Iris. You speak French very well." Fleur's voice had only a slight accent to it when she spoke English, making it very easier to understand her. "It is good to know not everyone here is incapable of speaking a foreign tongue."

Iris shrugged, wincing slightly as her wound stretched open a bit. "I had a lot of time on my hands when I was little. Spent many days at the local library learning different languages as a hobby."

"What languages do you know?" the French girl asked, her head tilted slightly in curiosity.

Iris thought for a moment before responding. "French at first, then Spanish, Japanese, Russian, Scots Gaelic, Chinese, Irish and Latin. I started learning Bulgarian last summer but didn't get too far in before the School year started."

The blond nodded before falling silent for a time. Iris herself fell silent as she contemplated Madam Pomfrey's departure. She didn't like to admit it, but the older woman running from her hurt. They weren't exactly friends, but Iris had felt like they were getting there. They had spent many hours talking during the times the young woman had gotten stuck in the Hospital Wing after doing something stupid. They had spoken on a variety of subjects, from Pomfrey's procedure when healing to what her plans were for her times off. If she was being honest, Madam Pomfrey was a bit like an aunt to Iris, much more than that horrible woman her mother had been unfortunately related to.

The thought of Lily made Iris's heart sink into her stomach. Contrary to what everyone assumed, Iris did actually possess clear memories of her mother. Her ivory skin, her emerald eyes, fiery red hair and brilliant smile. The way her mother had berated James when he had accidently broken a vase Lily's mother had given them. Those brilliant green eyes that were so much like her own shining with joy when Iris had done her first bit of accidental magic, causing the infant to turn their coffee table to pure crystal. The fear in Lily's eyes when she heard the spell-fire echoing from the ground floor of their house as James held of Voldemort long enough for Lily to run with Iris. The resignation on her face as the cold of Dark Magic began to grow closer, causing Iris to cry in fear as her mother told the infant she loved her one last time. That was the last clear memory Iris had of Lily. After that, it was nothing but darkness, with a flash of sickly green light and the sensation of being struck in the head with a crowbar. That was something that haunted her dreams quite often, causing the girl to wake up in a cold sweat at least two or three times a week at the ass-crack of dawn.

"How did you do that?" came Fleur's voice, cutting through the slightly depressing thoughts that had been running wild in Iris's head.

Iris looked into the curious eyes of the foreign witch. "Do what?"

"The flames. I saw you use them on the Magi-Screens. How do you use them?"

Iris blinked and frowned for a moment before she answered. "How do you make men drool like a bunch of idiots?"

Fleur blinked at the question. "It is my Allure. A gift I inherited from my Grandmother."

Iris shook her head. "No…I mean, how do you use your Allure?" Iris asked. Fleur frowned at the question, confusion filling her eyes as Iris sighed, trying to think up the words. "I mean, what about your magic allows you to use the Allure? What creates it, what allows you to use it to make men make bigger fools of themselves than they usually do?" she smirked slightly at the thought of Malfoy's idiocy.

Fleur frown as she began to think it over, Iris's emerald-gold eyes locked on her soft, aristocratic features. After a few moments, she responded with, "I simply…do? It is instinct, a part of me. I can suppress it or let it out full force at a thought. But it is always there, just beneath the skin."

Iris nodded in understanding. "Well, these flames…" she raised her right hand and with a thought, golden flames sprung to life, dancing between her fingers as warm and bright as the evening sun. "It's the same way…I think. Today is the first time I've done anything like this, but somehow I know exactly how to use them." She let the Flames die down before moving her hand to her chest, just above her heart. "When I call them forth…my heart warms up and it feels like a piece of me that's been missing my whole life just falls into place."

Fleur watched Iris's face for a moment before speaking. "I've never seen anyone who wasn't Veela or at least part Veela use fire like that. Perhaps one of your parents had Veela blood?"

Iris shook her head immediately. "Mom was Muggleborn. She didn't have a single drop of magical blood in her family until her. Dad was a dr—" Iris stopped herself at what she had been about to say and frowned.

_Dad was a dragon? That's not right…he was a Pureblood. He was most certainly not a big-ass lizard that was capable of unleashing a maelstrom of fire at a whim._ She shook her head. _What the hell is wrong with me!? First, I survive dragon fire at close range, then I beat the ever-loving crap out of a Hungarian Horntail with my bare hands, and now I'm thinking James was a dragon?_

_But is it James Potter you see as your father? Or Igneel?_ That rumbling voice from before; the one that told her to consume Dragon Fire; spoke up causing her to frown at the name 'Igneel'. Like 'Zeref', the name seemed familiar, despite knowing that she had never heard it before.

"James was a Pureblood. From what I saw in the family tree, there were no Veelas in the Potter family. And before today, my magic manifested as green lightning, not gold flames." She finished quickly, ignoring Fleur's questioning look at her rushed response.

Whatever Fleur might've said was cut off as the sound of multiple people approaching reached Iris's ears and several people burst into the tent, led by Albus Dumbledore. Iris could barely keep the small scowl off her face. Most powerful wizard alive and he was content to sit by and let children do his job. Not to mention he had left her to rot with the Dursley's for twelve years without so much as a peep from her 'Magical Guardian', and had allowed her godfather to rot in Azkaban for twelve years on circumstantial evidence tossed together by a man so obsessed with fighting Dark Sorcerers to the point he accused innocent people. Sufficed to say, Iris was very rarely happy with the old man.

"IRIS, MY GIRL! ARE YOU ALRIGHT?" the old man's voice boomed, causing the teen to grit her teeth. Fleur's magic suppressed the worst of the sound, but it didn't stop Dumbledore's voice from sounding like he was screaming in her ear. A few adjustments to the spell were in order. It was made worse as more people started talking as well, all of them apparently content to speak louder and louder to be heard over one another.

"SHE LOOKS FINE, ALBUS. I'M MORE CONCERNED WITH WHAT HAPPENED OUT THERE. THE FACT THAT SHE WAS ABLE TO THROW AROUND A FULL-GROWN DRAGON WITH HER BARE HANDS! OH HO, I'VE NEVER SEEN SUCH A WONDEROUS THING!" Ludo Bagman's voice wasn't as loud as Dumbledore's, but it was much more annoying on the ears. Though that might've been left over aggravation with the man from his rather distracting commentary during her Task.

"INDEED," came the booming voice of Madam Maxine. Due to her size, the woman was much louder than either who spoke before her, the noise grinding on her ears as Iris tried to augment Fleur's spell nonverbally to suppress the sounds that were sure to follow. "WE ALL SAW WHAT SHE DID OUT THERE, ALBUS. I DOUBT ANYONE IN THIS ROOM HAS SEEN OR HEARD OF THAT KIND OF POWER BEFORE. HER MASTERY OF FIRE, HER STRENGTH AND REFLEXES WERE ABSURD. FAR TOO POWERFUL TO BE NORMAL."

"SHE ASKS A GOOD QUESTION, DUMBLEDORE," came Karkaroff's nasally voice, a tone of arrogance and greedy curiosity lacing his words. No doubt he wanted to know how to replicate her power. "HOW DID POTTER—"

Then, the oddest thing happened: Fleur shouted at the headmasters and Ministry officials.

"SILENCE!" She cried, shutting up everyone in the tent before sending Iris an apologetic look. Iris simply shook her head, both to clear the ringing out and to show that she was alright.

Karkaroff turned bright red with indignation, his face twitching violently at the absurdity of being told to shut up by a girl half his age. "YOU DARE—"

"Her ears are much more sensitive than yours. I used a spell to suppress most of the sounds but from her winces, I'd say it is still as though you were shouting in her ear with the way you are all carrying on." Fleur responded quickly, cutting off any reprisal from the Headmasters. "As are the rest of her senses from what I heard."

Everyone fell silent and turned to Iris, who had a brow raised as she observed a bunch of 'adults' get told of by someone not even a third the age of the eldest.

"Iris, my girl, is this true?" Dumbledore asked, thankfully having lowered his voice. He now sounded as though he were trying to have a conversation rather than trying to shout over everyone else.

Iris couldn't stop the scowl from reaching her face. "First off, Professor, I'm not _your_ anything. Secondly, yes. Thanks to Fleur, it no longer feels like I'm being stabbed in the ears with a pair of flaming ice picks. Doesn't stop the lot of you from sounding like your screaming in my ears. A few adjustments to Fleur's spell are in order. So, do me a favor and SHUT YER TRAPS!"

The elder wizards and witch gaped at the girl who was currently rubbing her ears in annoyance as she thought of how to increase the effectiveness of the Quarter-Veela's sound suppression spell. Her thought was cut off when, wouldn't you know, the same bastard who locked up her godfather on circumstantial evidence stepped forward.

"It does not matter," Barty Crouch said in a superior tone as he glared at Iris with an accusing look. She had a pretty good feeling he had his mind made up about her flames. She returned the glare with equal force, unknown to the fact her eyes had become reptilian once again. "What does matter was Potter's display out on the field. We must know exactly what happened out there. Well, out with-it Potter. What did you do?"

Iris growled as she pushed herself to her feet, internally relieved that her wound had finished healing as she moved over to the man who had locked up Sirius for twelve years with no concrete evidence. She vaguely noted that she stood half-a-head taller than Mr. Crouch. "If you're thinking what I think you are, then I will punt your pasty ass right back out of this tent. We all know how you see Dark Magic everywhere you go, Mr. Crouch."

The man turned dark red as his flinty eyes glared at her before he turned to his fellows as Dumbledore spoke up. "I certainly hope you are not suggesting that Iris was using Dark Magic as she thinks you are, Barty."

The Headmaster's voice was quiet, but the tone was one that Iris had previously considered to be one of the scariest she had ever heard. Her brow furrowed as she realized that his reprimanding tone no longer phased her. A primal part of her said that Albus was not her Superior, nor was he her Equal. He was her Lesser, and she would not be cowed by him. These new instincts were starting to confuse her.

"I'm sorry, Albus. But you must admit that what happened out there was not normal, even by Wizarding standards. That thing she conjured when she roared. The fact she could roar like that to begin with. Add those factors to those flames, her absurd strength and ferocity, what could it be if not Dark Magic?" the man looked superior at his 'brilliant' deduction, despite the fact that it made no sense. Iris was shaking her head at the idiocy of the man as Dumbledore began to argue against Crouch's logic. Iris payed no attention as she looked down at her stomach and poked the spot where her wound had been. There was nothing more than a minor scar that had healed in the shape of an 'X' on the lower left side of her abdomen, the scar a few shades lighter than the tanned skin that was pulled tight against her athletic form.

_Dark Magic…is it possible?_ She thought as Crouch's words pushed their way to the forefront of her mind. Part of her was afraid that he was right. She wasn't normal. Not even by the standards of the Wizarding World. Killing a fully-grown mountain troll at age eleven with her bare hands was NOT normal. Killing a two millennia old Basilisk at age twelve with nothing but a sword and her bare hands was NOT normal. Killing fifty dementors in a single night with what was supposed to be a Patronus at age thirteen was NOT NORMAL!

Was it possible that she had been infected by Voldemort's Dark Magic as a child? It would be possible. A child's magic was a lot like a sponge at that age, constantly pulling in bits and pieces of other peoples magic as it was settling. But nothing she had ever read told her that Voldemort had used Dragon Slayer Magic before.

She winced. _Dragon Slayer Magic…? Is that what I used out there…? It feels right…but the name feels like it's a bit insulting…_

_Our power? Dark? No!_ the rumbling voice returned, full of righteous fury. _It is the strength to push beyond any obstacle. The Sword we use to defeat our foes and the Shield we carry to protect our loved ones. The True Dragons are gone. We are their Legacy. Do not allow this filth to corrupt who we are!_

"Iris…Iris…Iris Potter!"

Iris blinked and looked up at the assembled adults who were staring at her expectantly. "Did you say something?" she intoned in a bored manner.

Crouch and Karkaroff looked infuriated, Fleur and Krum were amused, Dumbledore and Maxime were stoic, and Bagman looked like he was ready to fly away in joy.

Albus spoke. "Do you believe that the power you used to defeat the Horntail is Dark in any way, shape, or form?"

Iris decided to be honest, but vague. "No, I do not. All I know for certain is that the Power I possess saved my life and the lives of the people I care about more times than I can count. Until I see solid evidence that it is in fact Dark Magic, I will continue to use this Power until further notice. So you can either get on board, or **get out of the way.**"

Her final words came out as a deep growl, smoke streaming from the corners of her fanged maw as she glared at the man obsessed with Dark Magic. His face paled as he watched the smoke stream from her.

She grinned evilly as Crouch's face paled. _This is gonna be fun!_

* * *

_**I LIIIIVE! Please don't hate me for taking so long to update this story. **_

_**First off: Multiple people have pointed out that my story looks like Fiori75's '**Return of the Dragon Slayers**' story. I'm going to point out right now, I did not do that on purpose. I went back and read his story after the third person insisted on it and i damn near punched myself in the face. Best i can guess is that when i began writing this story, a small part of my brain remembered Return of the Dragon Slayers from when i read it forever ago and adapted it to how i was writing. I AM SO SORRY FIORI75! I DIDN'T MEAN TO COPY YOU!**_

_**Translations:**_

_Excusez-moi Madame Potter? - _Excuse me, Ms. Potter?

_Est-ce que tu vas bien? Vous Semblez malade..._ \- Are you alright? You seem unwell...

_Je vais mieux, Madame Delacour. J'aimerais juste pouvoir faire quelque chose pour mon audition._ \- I've been better, Miss Delacour. I just wish I could do something about my hearing.

_Si vous le souhaitez... je pense pouvoir vous aider avec ça..._ \- If you wish it... I think I can help you with that...

_Oui s'il vous plaît, Madame Delacour. J'apprécierais grandement cela._ \- Yes please, Ms. Delacour. I would greatly appreciate that.

_**Faites le monde silencieux, laissez chanter la magie.**_ \- Make Silent the World, Let Sing the Magic. (_**I figure that since France is so different than England, they would use spells that were fundementally different than they do it at Hogwarts**_)

_Merci, Fleur._ \- Thank you, Fleur


End file.
